


Christmas Wishes

by BlackDog9314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8981575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: The first canon-ish piece I've ever written, and it's Christmas-themed. I hope you enjoy.





	

Dean is unhappy.

Sam knows it, and has stayed away from him for the past day or so.

Castiel does not know it, and has been invading Dean’s personal space for the past half hour.

“Dean, I feel that you should express how you’re feeling right now,” he says plaintively, his blue eyes narrowed as he focuses on the hunter.

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean says as he rakes his fingers over his face. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“I think it would make you feel…‘lighter’.” The word is obviously one that Castiel is trying out, the emphasis on it tenuous and uncertain.

“Do you even hear yourself, man?” Dean asks. “When have I ever told you anything and felt lighter?” He’s being rude and is well-aware, but has no desire to confide in the very source of his current issues, thank you very much.

Castiel cants his head to the side, the familiar gesture almost strange to watch when placed beside the tree they’ve set up in the Bunker for the holidays. He kind of looks like the angel he is next to it, the soft, multi-colored string lights casting him in an almost beautiful glow.

Dean puts the word away before he can dwell on it. Beautiful. That’s not one he should be throwing around where Cas is concerned. He sighs and turns away before he can think it again. “Listen, Cas…I’m just worn out right now, okay?”

Castiel doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but doesn’t bring the subject up again, thankfully.

  
  


It’s three days later, on Christmas Eve, that Dean gets tipsy on incredibly spiked eggnog. When Castiel looks at him and smiles at something he says, Dean blurts without thinking it through, “We got any mistletoe in this joint?”

He laughs almost hysterically after, feeling warmth flood his cheeks and already wanting to take it back. How much has he had? Can he play this off as a silly, drunken mistake? What should he–

Castiel interrupts his frantic thoughts, “I believe we do. Why?” He’s looking at Dean somewhat strangely, now.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dean forces another laugh and nods somewhat erratically, walking off toward the bunker’s kitchen both to take a straight shot of the whiskey he’s been dumping into the eggnog and in the hopes that Castiel won’t follow him.

He only gets one of those wishes, though, and isn’t truly surprised when he hears Castiel’s voice from behind him as he throws back a shot of Jack, the amber liquid searing on the way down. 

“Dean, do you…were you wanting the mistletoe for yourself and Sam?”

Dean whips around, knowing by now that he probably looks like a pink balloon in a checkered flannel.

“What? ‘Course not. That’d be weird.”

“Then, who?” The angel asks.

“Cas, I’ve had some to drink, you know I tend to say crap without thinking it through—”

“Did you mean me?”

Castiel’s direct way of saying the unsaid hits Dean like a punch to the midriff every time, and now is no different. Dean turns back around to face the kitchen counter and the open bottle on its polished surface. “Don’t be stupid.”

He knows he’s being gruff, but it’s Christmas Eve and the last thing he needs is Castiel finally fucking getting it after all the time they’ve spent together, and Sam finding out and it all getting messy and weird and yet more words Dean doesn’t have the energy to put out of his mind.

“You wouldn’t need mistletoe,” is what Castiel says next.

The words are warm, and spoken directly into Dean’s ear from behind. He closes his eyes. Castiel smells like fabric softener and salt and the slightest hint of wet tar, of the air just before it rains and the silence that settles all around just as the storm begins, and Dean’s been caught in its eye for over six years.

“Yeah?” Dean whispers.

“Yes,” Castiel says. Dean looks down and notices that the angel has gently placed a hand over his, and understands everything now.

Finally fucking getting it, indeed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://blackdog9314.tumblr.com/) if you want, and feel free to inbox me short prompt-fills =)


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